


A Better Father

by audhds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Bobby Singer, Baby Sam, Bobby Is Done With John's Shit, Bobby is so Done, Broken Bones, Child Neglect, Dean Deserves to be Happy, Dean Has Broken Bones, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotionally Hurt Dean, Hospitals, Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Injured Dean, Injured Dean Winchester, Injury, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Fic, Protective Bobby, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audhds/pseuds/audhds
Summary: When John fails to look after his sons properly, they are left in the care of none other than Bobby Singer, the rough, hardened hunter. But when faced with a badly injured child with a broken ankle and a tiny baby, it appears that Bobby is a lot softer than he seems. In fact, he may even be a better father than John Winchester ever was.Basically an excuse for neglected, sad Dean and Bobby making it all better.





	1. Chapter 1

"C'mon Ace, we need to go. Get your stuff, we're leaving." John was halfway down the motel driveway with baby Sam in one arm by the time that Dean finally managed to cram the last of Sammy's clothing in a suitcase. He had also packed all of Sammy's toys, blankets, baby food and a rattle, forsaking his own skaeletrix kit, toy car collection and his action man. There wasn't enough room in the single suitcase that John had shoved at them, their kind next door neighbour had packed the case when they left home after the fire, and had fitted everything in with ease, but Dean couldn't work out how. He wasn't going to leave behind Sammy's stuff and the only alternative was leaving his own. With slumped shoulders Dean followed his Dad's previous orders to "pack up, NOW!"

Dean had flinched at the harsh order but obeyed immediately, and now he was dragging the suitcase along the motel landing, it was far too heavy for a four year old to carry but Dean didn't want to upset his father. He began to drag it along as best as he could, scraping the wooden floor as he could not lift the case. It was worth it to make his Daddy happy though. Daddy had been upset enough recently, shouting at Dean or drinking too much, or sitting staring at the wall with his head in his hands, or doing all three at once. Dean didn’t want to make things worse.

At first this had terrified Dean, he had silently begged for his mummy to walk through the door and calm John down, to massage his shoulders and kiss his cheek like she always used to. But she didn't. Dean hadn't seen her since the fire, since he had heard her last scream and carried his baby brother out of the house. Ever since, he had spent his hours either looking after his baby brother, or trying to work out why she wasn't coming back. He had climbed into his motel bed after washing himself like a big boy, and cleaning Sam so that his Mum would be proud of him, but she still didn't come and tuck him in. Dean just couldn't work out what he was doing wrong. Why did Mummy hate him all of a sudden?

Dean blinked back the tears in his eyes and began to make his way carefully down the motel stairs, slipping on one of the last steps and tumbling down to the floor. Dean blinked blearily at the bottom, his head was sore and there was something heavy on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Then he felt the searing pain coursing through his ankle, so bad that he began to scream in agony, thrashing in an attempt to make the pain stop.

A blonde hotel cleaner saw the child fall and heard his cries of pain and grabbed the suitcase off him, watching as Dean gasped for air and began to cry even harder.

"Are you alright sweetheart? Does anywhere hurt? It's alright." Dean blinked blearily up at the blonde woman and his stomach did a back flip. Mummy! He stopped screaming for a moment and was just about to pull the woman into a tight hug when he heard his father.

"Get away from him, RIGHT NOW!" John stormed forwards and hauled Dean up by the wrist, causing Dean to gasp in pain. He had badly bruised his arm when he fell, and when John let go of him so Dean could stand on his own, but Dean discovered this was not an option as he crumbled to the floor again.

"Now excuse me! Your son just fell down the stairs and was being suffocated by a suitcase! Where were you? How dare you shout at me for helping him! Fancy letting a child carry that! Can't you see that he is hurt?" Dean shook his head miserably and managed to stand on one leg, leaning against the wall and holding his right one in the air to avoid making the pain any worse. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now and he couldn't help but sniffle. John looked angry every time Dean had cried for his Mum recently, constantly shouting at him to "SHUT UP," or not to "BE PATHETIC!" Dean knew he would get in trouble, which only made him cry harder. _I want Mummy._

John growled at the woman, not being able to come up with a reasonable comeback, and scooped Dean and the suitcase up, dumping them both unceremoniously in the car. He knew he should be kinder to Dean, comfort him and check out his obviously painful ankle, but he didn't. John wasn't quite sure what was wrong with himself, since Mary he just hadn't been able to show any affection towards the boys. Dean's crying merely irritated him more, and when Sam started to scream in his cot it just made John angrier and more determined to kill the son of a bitch who did this to his family. He would get revenge, no matter the price.

They drove in near silence to Bobby's, the eerie quietness broken only by the sobs which Dean was trying to muffle in his T-shirt, which was now soaked through with tears, snot and some blood. To make matters worse, Dean now had a nosebleed to contend with from rubbing his runny nose so much. John looked over at Dean's slumped figure in the back seat and passed him some tissues, as tenderly as he could. Guilt was beginning to seep in now, and John didn't like it.

"Dad?"

"What?" Damn that came out harsher than I wanted it to.

"Nothing." Dean recoiled and bit back his complaint. He didn't want to make his Daddy angry.

"Sure?" _No, my foot hurts real bad!_

"I'm fine."

"Good. Anyway Buddy, how about I get you some M&Ms, peanut ones, your favourite."

It was a lousy attempt of making things up to his son, but it was a start. Dean nodded a little and was soon munching through the family-sized bag of candy in an attempt to take his mind off the searing pain, but it wasn't really working and his vision kept blurring, when he could see clearly it was as if his surroundings were spinning.

John hadn't eaten any yet and Sam was too small to eat the sweets, so by the time they reached Bobby's Dean was looking even worse than before, swaying on his good leg and a pale shade of green. The agony in his ankle was now so intense that it was making his stomach roll violently.

When Bobby opened the door Dean couldn't hold it in any more, vomiting miserably all over Bobby's shoes and doormat before he could even get out a hello.

"DEAN!" Dean flinched when John grabbed him by the hair and forced him to face his father, whose face was contorted with rage. For a moment Dean was sure that John was going to hit him, and Bobby thought the same thing, as he interjected and pulled Dean away from his father quickly.

"Cool it John." The usually kind-faced hunter gave John a look full of venom, silently threatening to shoot the now-hunter's sorry ass if he laid a hand on his son, before turning his attention to a quivering Dean.

"S'alright kiddo. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up a bit." Bobby picked Dean up, ignoring the vomit and led John into the kitchen, beckoning at the dining table before soaking a cloth and mopping Dean up, wiping away the tear tracks and leaving a very red, puffy faced Dean staring morosely at the floor. He still hadn't said a word and was quivering meekly.

Realising that Dean was in no fit state to move of his own accord, by the looks of things he was going into shock, Bobby picked Dean up and tucked him into the spare bed before returning to grab Sam and placing him in the cot that he had made up in case of a visit. Both boys slept through being put to bed - they were fast asleep in his arms before he even reached the spare bedroom. Then he quickly changed his shoes and trousers, gathering his thoughts. When he returned downstairs he grabbed a beer and downed half of it at once. He needed some Dutch courage for this.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at John? Treating your kid like that? He looks like shit…no worse that shit. I have seen corpses in a better condition, he is skin and bones. Their mother just died for god's sake, be reasonable. If you lay one hand on them I swear I will shoot you dead without a moment's hesitation. Those boys deserve to be treated better than that! What would Mary have thought if she saw you hurting Dean, or Sammy?" John simply stared blankly at Bobby before getting up, pulling his leather jacket back on and storming out of the door. He had never been one for conversation anyway and just didn't have the energy to shout and scream, which he would have done under any other circumstances, but right now he felt like crap and he could just picture a pint-or-ten with his name on them.

Bobby hurried after John but heard the revving of the Impala's engine and knew he was too late to stop the younger hunter. It was probably best if John cooled down for a bit anyway, he would be back in a couple of days in a better state of mind.

"BALLS!" It wasn't like Bobby didn't want to spend time with the rug-rats, he loved them to bits (not that he'd ever admit that he was going soft), but he knew that they needed the comfort of their family. Now was the time they needed to support each other in an attempt to re-build their apple pie life, and here was John acting like a complete bag of dicks!

The next morning, Bobby had woken up to the sounds of Sammy screaming and bawling at the top of his tiny lungs. With a sigh he headed into the boy's room and found Dean sitting on the floor cradling his brother, attempting to make him feed on the proffered bottle of milk he had packed in the suitcase, which was now warm and smelt funny. Sammy wouldn't drink but just continued to scream and Bobby could see the desperate tears streaming down Dean's face.

"Give him to me Dean, I'll sort him out."Dean hesitantly handed Sam over, but whimpered when Bobby began to leave the room with his younger brother.

"You can come to; I'm just gonna clean him up." Bobby watched, his brow furrowing when he saw Dean get to his feet with a Herculean effort, and noted how Dean wouldn't put his right foot down.

"What happened to your foot Dean?" There was no response other than a couple more tears leaking out of Dean's emerald green eyes and Bobby sighed, placing Sammy back on the bed.

"Dean, can you sit on the bed for me?"

"No." Dean's voice was weak and hoarse from crying, but Bobby was glad that he had finally began to speak.

"Dean, sit down now."

"D-don't want to!"

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be kiddo, just let me take a look."

"Please don't." This time Bobby felt his heart break. Dean's voice was hushed; almost a whisper and he looked up at Bobby with fearful eyes. He thought Bobby was going to hurt him even more, whatever was wrong with Dean's leg, it was clearly incredibly painful.

"I'll be careful, I promise. You can just yell at me to stop when you need to take a breather, ok?"

"Ok." Dean sniffled miserably and tensed, burying his face in a pillow and fisting his sheets.

Bobby then carefully pulled up Dean's trouser leg and tried to ignore the boy's whimper.

Bobby gasped at the sight of Dean's ankle; the bone was sticking right out, no wonder he was in agony. Bobby wondered how the boy was not unconscious or screaming, and came to the conclusion that he wasn't screaming in case John told him off for being too noisy. The kid was already showing signs of a hunter, tough and resilient.

"Right, hospital for you."

"I'm fine."

"No you’re not, that looks really sore."

"I want Daddy!"

"He's gone out for a while, he'll be back soon."

"When's soon?"

"I don't know Dean."

"I wanna go to sleep."

"I don't think so, sorry Dean." Dean shook his head miserably but fainted with a gasp of pain when Bobby pulled his trouser leg back down, despite being gentle the movement caused another spike of pain to shoot up Dean's leg and he just couldn't take it anymore. If anything he welcomed the oblivion.

Ten minutes later with a clean Sam and a passed out Dean in the truck, Bobby drove to A&E. _I am gonna murder that bloody Winchester with my bare hands for leaving his boy like this!_

After a lot of awkward questions and three days, Dean's ankle had been operated on and was now wrapped up in a temporary cast. He was still in a lot of pain but at least they were heading back home. Dean had hated the hospital. Ever since Bobby had taken him in he had refused to talk to anyone, flinching away from the nurses and fighting against them if he got too close.

The crying hadn't been so bad, yes it was painful to watch Dean looking so miserable but it wasn't nearly as bad as what happened during the second night. Dean had practically shut down. Bobby had only left for a minute to get a cup of cheap coffee, but when he returned Dean was no longer in his bed. After half an hour of frantic searching Bobby had been told, well ordered, to wait in Dean's room in case the little boy returned. That was when he had spotted the cord of a hospital gown under Dean's bed. He quickly rang the attention bell and explained to the nurses that he had found Dean, but none of them could make the boy come out. He had curled up into a tiny ball and was rocking back and forth with his hands held tightly against his ears. In the end the staff ended up wheeling the bed away so that Bobby could pick Dean up and return him to it. Dean had not resisted, which was also disconcerting.

Bobby just sat by his bed all day, cuddling the boy close and muttering comforting words, although he wasn't sure Dean was listening.

By the third day still wasn't doing well emotionally but the nurses said that his ankle was beginning to heal and that he could go home. Bobby actually groaned in relief, at least things would be easier on familiar territory. It was clear that Dean hated hospitals.

Whilst they were waiting to be signed off Dean was still avoiding looking at Bobby, instead choosing to stare out of the window sadly. His Dad hadn't come to the hospital with them; maybe he doesn't love me anymore, like Mum?

When Bobby scooped Dean up and placed him in the truck the boy seemed to perk up a little. He even allowed Bobby to carry him inside the house, he did have a crutch but relished in the comfort of Bobby hugging him close. He gently rested his head on the hunter's shoulder and began to doze off; the hospital staff had given him a lot of morphine, which was now taking its toll. Once Bobby had set Dean down on the sofa he returned to the truck to fetch Sam, who was also fast asleep.

Bobby took Sam upstairs and placed the baby in his cot before grabbing a beer and settling a sleeping Dean on the sofa next to him. He smiled as Dean subconsciously snuggled closer to his side and began to mumble in his sleep as Bobby carded through his short blonde hair. Dean was a good kid, he deserved so much better than this. Bobby soon fell asleep on the sofa with Dean next to him; daytime television was getting worse by the minute these days! He was only roused when Dean began to thrash against him, screaming out in his sleep and begging for someone to "make it stop." Bobby had no idea what the kid was dreaming about, but it didn't take a genius to work out that this was a particularly unpleasant nightmare.

"Wake up kiddo. C'mon Dean, work with me here!" After a few more moments of wild thrashing Bobby's concerned gaze was met with blinking, emerald green eyes.

"B-Bobby?" Dean's face crumpled as he began to sob, wrapping his skinny arms around Bobby, who pulled the boy onto his lap and enveloped him in a tight hug. He was never usually one for soppy, lovey-dovey stuff but there was something about those freckles and sparkling eyes that pulled at his heartstrings.

"It's alright kiddo, it was just a dream. Don't cry." Bobby didn't know what else to do other than return Dean's hug. Kids hardly came with manuals and he was pretty sure that there was nothing on how to care for a hurting child in any of his old books. _Give me a damned poltergeist any day!_

"I-I want Daddy."

"I know you do, he'll be back soon, I promise. Get some sleep Dean, things will look better tomorrow." _Well, they probably won't 'cos I'm willing to bet my hat that your Daddy is drunk as hell, but maybe the day after he will get his ass in gear._

"I don't wanna sleep. I-I'm scared."

"You have nothing to be afraid of Dean, I'll take care of you. Do you want to talk about it?" At first Dean shook his head, but then he whispered something so quiet that Bobby didn't catch it.

"Speak up a little Dean."

"T-there was a fire in my dream. I-I didn't like it, I want Mummy back."

"I know Dean, I know." Bobby's heart sank. There was nothing he could do, not really.

"Please try to sleep Dean, for me."

"I don't feel well Bobby, my foot hurts real bad."

"I can't give you any more meds, I'm sorry, you’re gonna have to ride this one out. Just go to sleep Dean."

"I want to sleep with Sammy."

"You can't go upstairs Dean, the doctors said, remember? No stairs for the time being." The look that Dean gave Bobby caused the hardened hunter's heart to melt and he soon found himself scooping Dean into his arms and tucking him into bed upstairs. He then lifted a tiny Sammy out of his crib and passed the child to his older brother, watching from the doorway as Dean cuddled Sam close and began to stroke his tufts of hair. Sam wrapped a tiny fist around Dean's finger and began to chew it gingerly, causing Dean to smile lovingly down at his kid brother.

There was so much love in Dean's expression that Bobby was sure that these kids would grow up really close. He could tell that Dean would protect Sam from anything, with his life. His green eyes were so caring that it was obvious; no harm would ever befall Sam when Dean was around.

Dean eventually fell asleep with Sam still in his arms, so Bobby took the youngest Winchester and carried him downstairs, feeding him a bottle and ensuring that if he started crying, Dean wouldn't be woken up. The poor boy really needed some sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

At lunchtime the next day Bobby decided that he should wake Dean up, smiling down at the drowsy boy before helping him downstairs for breakfast.

"What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry." Bobby knew that a loss of appetite was a symptom of morphine, but Dean was already too skinny and hadn't kept any food down for a couple of days. This couldn't go on any longer.

"You need to eat Dean, how about some toast?"

"No."

"Yes."

"Ok." After half an hour of Bobby coaxing dry toast into Dean's mouth he decided that this wasn't going to work, so he allowed Dean to curl up on the sofa under a blanket and watch some movies. Dean seemed to be content for a while, but after the third film Bobby saw a single tear trickle down Dean's cheek.

"Dean, what's wrong? Talk to me buddy."

"Don't call me that!" Dean shouted, anger blazing in his eyes glared at Bobby with a look suddenly full of venom. Nobody called him that apart from his Dad.

"Don't take that tone with me son, or I'll give you a hiding." Bobby realised that he had made a mistake when he saw the boy withdraw into himself, burying his head under the blanket and curling up in a tight ball, pulling his ankle off of the pillows that had been supporting the cast. It had been an empty threat, Bobby would never lay his hand on a child, but Dean didn't seem to realise this.

"Dean, I didn't mean it, sorry. I'd never hurt you, ever. I'm sorry for scaring you." He could see the blanket shaking as Dean sobbed beneath it and sighed, _damn I've lost my touch._

"Please Dean…"

"G'way." Dean sounded broken, his voice cracked as he sobbed harder. _I want my Daddy._

Bobby and Dean spent the rest of the day in silence, a silence which was only interrupted by Sam screaming and crying out for attention. Dean was the only one who could calm his brother down, it seemed as if the younger Winchester could sense his older brother's distress.

Bobby finally made peace when he ordered takeaway burgers, hoping that Dean's appetite had returned. It had. With full force.

Maybe the way to a man's heart really is his stomach because Dean's eyes lit up when he took a bite of his bacon burger turbo and then crammed a few of his large chili-cheese fries into his mouth.

"Mnnn, so good!" Dean grinned at Bobby despite himself, how could he be angry with someone who gave him a burger? Dean had been living off of spaghetti-ohs for weeks with his Dad being unwilling to cook for him, so this was a real treat.

"You forgive me now?"

"Yeah. Do you have any pie?"

"Depends on who's asking." Bobby winked as he left the room, returning with a huge slice of apple pie on a plate for Dean. He knew the boy wouldn't be able to eat the whole piece but it was the gesture that counted. How very wrong he was, within minutes Dean had eaten the pie and there was not a crumb left, he had even licked the apple filling off the plate when he thought Bobby wasn't looking.

"You really were hungry!"

"Yeah." Dean looked slightly sheepish but was grinning nonetheless. He was so irrationally happy at that moment that he had even managed to forget the pain he was in.

The next morning Dean had some leftover burger, nodding in acknowledgement when Bobby asked; "you eating bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast now?"

"Sorry."

"S'alright. You can eat whatever you want, just try not to make yourself sick again."

"Ok Bobby, thanks. What are we doing after breakfast?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Can we go to the park and feed the ducks?"

Dean realised how babyish his request had sounded and quickly tried to cover up for himself, his Dad kept telling him to man up.

"Um, it's just that Sammy loves the park!" Sure he does Dean, you're a kid, and you can act like one y'know.

"Ok, the park it is."

Progress was slow, what with Dean having to stop at least once every half hour when his ankle became too painful, but he was grinning from ear to ear by the time they reached the pond. Bobby perched on the edge of the embankment with Sammy in his arms and watched as Dean began throwing chunks of bread to the ducks, his favourite seeming to be an American black duck. Its feathers were slightly rumpled and it was smaller than all of the other birds, but Dean didn't seem to mind. In his mind that duck was the cutest and needed him to look after it, like Sammy did.

Half a loaf of bread later, Dean was ready to go, hobbling onto his good foot and making his way to the café with Bobby where they both had an ice-cream. Even Sam had a small spoonful of Dean's vanilla ice cream, which he swallowed down gleefully, giggling. _Damn why do they make me so warm and fuzzy, if Ellen or one of the others saw me right now…_

It was only when it started to pour with rain that Bobby managed to persuade Dean to leave, but Dean was struggling to walk over the slippery mud and fell face first onto the gravel path, tears springing to his eyes when pieces of stone dug into his palms. Thankfully he had not landed on his bad ankle.

A young woman who had been hurrying by under an umbrella hurried over.

"Do you three need any help? I have some plasters in my handbag."

"Yeah, thanks." Bobby acknowledged her gruffly, too preoccupied with checking Dean's ankle to be polite. He had a reputation of being a grumpy old man, why not live up to it.

"Do you want me to take the littleun back to your car while you carry this young man?" Bobby looked uncomfortable but Dean wasn't in any fit state to walk back to the car. The cuts in his hand would hurt if pressed against the crutches and he could hardly support a baby's neck and back properly if he hand a four year old in one arm.

"Thanks, that'd be great."

"C'mon you little idjit, fancy getting yourself hurt again. What am I going to do with you, hey?" Dean sniffled a little but refused to cry, chewing his lower lip and clinging tightly to Bobby's jacket.

Bobby settled Dean into the passenger seat of his 1971 Chevelle and took Sammy off of the woman who had followed them with Sammy in her arms.

"Uh thanks." Bobby took Sam and placed him in a makeshift baby basket before accepting some plasters.  
"I'll be off then, I hope you feel better soon little man." The woman smiled at Dean and ruffled his short hair before returning to her journey, leaving a slightly bemused Bobby behind. Maybe there were some decent people left on the planet who were not completely egocentric and selfish.

"I'm just gonna patch you up kiddo, then we can go home and watch something, any movie of your choice."

"Doesn't hurt." It did hurt, but Dean didn't want Bobby to prod the cuts in his hands, knowing that would make them hurt even more.

"Sure it doesn't. The sooner I clean you up the sooner we can go home." Dean pouted and glared at Bobby before sticking his hands out. They were shaking violently but Bobby didn't ask any questions or comment. He knew that this would embarrass Dean and that the boy would stubbornly say that he was shaking because of the cold, not because he was in pain. Stubbornness ran through the Winchester bloodline.

Dean refused to cry when Bobby carefully wiped his hands clean and removed the bits of dirt and gravel, but let out a tiny yelp when Bobby pressed on a plaster.

"All done now."

"Good." Bobby turned the radio on for the journey back, singing along with Dean, who was finger tapping to Aerosmith and gently singing under his breath. Although Dean would never admit it, he had a lovely singing voice, but singing was for girls. He wanted to be big, strong and macho like Daddy.

It was late that night when Bobby heard the unmistakable rumble of the Impala's engine and he was immediately grateful that Dean and Sam were asleep. He had a few choice words lined up for John Winchester that were not suitable for young ears.

Bobby flung the door open with more force than was necessary before John even had the chance to knock.

"Where have you been you dick? Have you got any idea?!"

"Hi Bobby."

"That's it, you just up and leave like that and come back with nothing more than ‘hi Bobby’."

"What else do you want me to say?" _God he is a conceited ass!_

"SORRY! I want you to say sorry for leaving your kid behind in such a state. I want you to apologise for not caring for your boy properly and leaving me to take him to the damn hospital!"

"Hospital?" John's eyes widened momentarily, but the flicker of emotion was so brief that Bobby wondered if it had ever been there.

"YEAH YOU SON OF A BITCH, HOSPITAL. DID YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HURT DEAN'S ANKLE WAS? HANG ON, DON'T ANSWER THAT. YOU DIDN'T KNOW BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO BUSY WALLOWING IN SELF PITY TO NOTICE THAT YOUR SON HAD A BROKEN FUCKING ANKLE. THE POOR KID MUST HAVE BEEN IN AGONY FOR HOURS AND YOU DID NOTHING. NADA. THAT'S LOW, JOHN, EVEN FOR YOU!"

"Bobby..." John was lost for words, he loved his boys. He really did. _What have I done?_

"C'mon in then. Prick." Bobby could see the hurt in John's eyes and felt slightly bad for shouting at him. But only slightly.

"Where is he?"

"In bed, leave him be, it took me ages to make him settle down. You can see him in the morning."

"I want to see my son."

"Well I want your son to get a rest, and I want you to sober up before you talk to him. You stink of booze, how much did you drink?" John didn't answer, too ashamed at his actions to reply.

"I'm…I'm sorry." Bobby did a double take. John Winchester never apologises.

"Get some rest ya idjit. There is a blanket on the couch."

"Thanks Bobby."

"Anytime."

…

When Dean woke up the next morning he let out a small moan, sitting himself up and picking up his crutches, groaning when he knocked his sore hands when propping himself up on them.

All in all he was thoroughly miserable.

He really didn't feel well at all, Bobby had given him a dose of morphine in the night when he woke up in pain for the fourth time, and it didn't seem to agree with him.

"Bobby!" Dean barely gasped out the eldest hunter's name before he threw up all over the floor. By the time Bobby threw open the bedroom door Dean was crying harder than ever, tears streaming down his face.  
"Hey Champ." Dean gave a little sniff and looked up; standing just behind Bobby was his father.

"Daddy!" Dean struggled to prop himself back up but John strode over to his son and gently pushed him back against the pillows.

"Hi Dean, sorry I wasn't here earlier, I hear you were a very brave and well behaved boy for Bobby." Dean gave a small nod but paled and moved a hand to his mouth. Luckily hunter's reactions meant that John was able to push a bin under his son's head just in time.

"S'alright Dean, let it out, you're doing good son." John began to rub circles on Dean's back and supported his forehead, helping his son to sit up and propping the boy against his own chest.

"My tummy hurts Daddy!"

"I know, I'll get you some pills in a minute." John carefully moved his hand from Dean's forehead to his stomach and began to rub Dean's abdomen gently, making Dean relax a little.

"Better?"

"Y-yes." When Dean was sure he wasn't going to be sick again he snuggled down into John's lap and closed his eyes, mumbling something about Sammy.

"Sammy's fine, he's sleeping for now. Do you want something to drink…?” John was about to stand when Bobby came in with a plastic cup of water.

"One step ahead of ya."

"Thanks Bobby." John took the cup and placed it to Dean's lips, instructing his son to take small sips. When Dean was done and Bobby had cleaned the floor, John tucked him in under the blankets, picked Sam up out of his cot and sat with both of his sons in Dean's single bed. It was a tight fit but he didn't want to leave Dean's side again. He felt terrible and knew he would have to make things up to Dean, one step at a time.

He watched over them both as they slept.

…

Early the next day John was packing his things in the back of the Impala, much to Bobby's despair. Despite everything he had truly enjoyed caring for the Winchester boys, there were like family to him and he wanted nothing more than to spend some more time with them.

"You can stay longer you know, I don't mind."

"I do know, but there is a case down in Oregon, a suspicious fire and I just have to check it out."

"Are you sure you are doing the right thing, dragging Sam and Dean into this lifestyle? They're not soldiers; you still have the opportunity to live a normal life. If I were you I'd grab it with both hands."

"I need to kill the son of a bitch who hurt my Mary, I have to know who or what it was. I can't bear not knowing."

"Think of your kids, John. Please."

"I'm sorry Bobby…Come on Dean!" John called over to his son, who was hovering in the doorway of Bobby's house. The small boy made his way slowly over to the Impala, eyes trained on the floor.

"Do we have to go Daddy? I like it here."

"It will be fun Dean, I booked a nice hotel for us to stay in."

"I don't want to live in a hotel, wanna stay with Bobby." Dean stuck out his lower lip and hovered by Bobby's side.

"Dean." As soon as John used his warning tone Dean nodded sadly, resting his head against Bobby's stomach for a moment as he was pulled into a tight embrace.

"Seya soon Dean, you're welcome home any time."

"Thank you Bobby." Dean pulled away sadly and settled in the passenger seat of the Impala, looking back at Sam who was in a baby-seat staring transfixed out of the window. Sam had no idea what was going on and Dean was jealous. He wished he was oblivious to the hurt around him too.

"Take care of those boys John, they are great kids. Don't change that." Bobby pulled John into a one armed hug before pulling away and giving a gruff cough.

"Thanks for everything Bobby."

"Yeah…get outta here before you go all chick-flick on me!"

"Bye."

"Bye."

Bobby turned and walked back to his house with slumped shoulders, the familiar sound of the Impala pulling away ringing in his ears.

The creaks in the floorboards seemed louder than before, probably because he could no longer hear the bangs of Dean's crutches or Sammy crying in the background. All that was left were his own footsteps.

With a dejected sigh Bobby slumped down at the kitchen table and poured himself a large whiskey, staring up at the clock that was ticking loudly, mocking him. Each tick marked another wasted moment of his life, a moment when he was alone with no-one around to love, or to love him back.

Bobby knocked back another drink and pondered his life, what a waste! After all of the time he had spent on this damned planet, all he had to show for it was a collection of whiskey and some old books. All the people he had saved and this was his payment.

Some life!

Bobby couldn't help but think that he would have made a better father than John Winchester. Yes, the man clearly loved his sons, but not enough to shelter them from the dangers of the world. He was willing to drag his sons into perilous situations, train them for a life of hunting monsters, what kind of parent puts their child's life at risk like that?

Bobby made his way through the rest of his whiskey, giving up with pouring it into glasses and instead sipping straight from the bottle. What was the point?

He then hauled himself up, slumped in front of the television and began to flick through the channels, all the while thinking of the green eyed boy whom he had learnt to love as a son and the little baby who would grow up to be a hunter.

He would have been a better father than John, definitely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are a little older now, Dean is 11, Sam is 7. Yay for lots of Dean angst! Sorry Jensen!

"It is too Sammy."

  
"Is not Dean!" The youngest Winchester, having just turned 7, seemed to believe that with age came wisdom and was insistent that he was right about whether or not Norse folk laws were true or not. Dean, who had pretty much seen it all in his short eleven years, knew for a fact that most things believed to be fake, were real and he was insistent that he was correct. And that his little brother was being an idiot.

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"You're mean."

"Am not."

"If you're mean to me again I'll tell Bobby!"

"Don't be a snitch, bitch. Anyway, no you won't. And, I'm right because I'm oldest so there."

"I will too call him."

"Won't."

"I will, he'll side with me because he loves me most."

"No he won't Sammy, he loves me more, he called me his favourite little boy and I knew him first. He loves me most, so ha." Sammy's eyes welled up with hears and he let out a small whimper before screaming out at the top of his lungs.

"BOBBY! DEANS BEING MEAN TO ME!"

"LIAR. I AM NOT, SAM'S BEING A BRAT." After a small pause a tired looking Bobby entered the room. John was off hunting a werewolf and had deemed the task too dangerous for his sons, a fact that Bobby was very thankful for. At least it seemed that the man was gaining some responsibility with age.

"What are you idjits going on about, can't a man get any peace and quiet around her? I can’t even hear myself think. Why are you arguin?"

Sam looked up at the older hunter with wide eyes and asked him a simple, yet devastating question.

"Bobby, who do you prefer, me or Dean?" Before Bobby even had the chance to formulate some kind of answer that wouldn't offend either boy, Dean had interjected.

"You prefer me don't you? You love me the most."

"No he doesn't, don’t lie."

"You're the liar. Bobby!"

"He prefers me ok. You do don't you!" Dean was pouting a little now, with his arms tightly crossed in a perfect imitation of his Daddy.

"No, I…" Love you both, more than anything in the world. I can’t choose, I just can’t.

Before Bobby had a chance to explain himself or finish his answer, Sam's tiny face had lit up in triumph, his puppy dog eyes turning into eyes full of victory.

"Told you so Dean. He loves me most." The look of hurt in Dean's usually bright eyes was like a slap in the face to Bobby and at that moment in time he felt like the world's biggest jerk. Period.

"You are such a bitch." Dean's voice hitched a little and Bobby could see that his emerald green eyes had welled up with tears, but the stubborn boy was not about to let the tears fall. He was a tough little lad, the beginnings of the perfect soldier that John was trying to raise, although Bobby could still see that the boy was more loving and sensitive than he often let on. That was a fact confirmed by the way that he had turned his head away and had roughly wiped his eyes.

"Well, you're still a jerk. So there." Dean, unable to think of another comeback turned and ran out of the room, shooting both Sam and Bobby the dirtiest look he could muster.

"Dean! Dean come back here…" Dean didn't return and Bobby could hear him crashing upstairs and slamming a door. He had shut himself in his and Sam's shared bedroom. The bedroom which locked from the inside. Damn it.

"DEAN, COME BACK DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT. THAT'S AN ORDER." Bobby knew it was a low blow, but it was the option that would most likely make Dean come scurrying back downstairs so Bobby could talk to him and comfort him. Make the boy feel as if he was loved, something that Bobby feared John neglected to do very often.

After three minutes of waiting Bobby knew that the boy had no intention of coming down, so he made his way upstairs, grabbed a chair from his own bedroom and set it down outside Dean's door. He could hear muffled sniffles coming from the other side of the wood and part of him wished he was a ghost just so that he could get through to Dean. All he wanted at that point in time was to be close to him when the boy clearly needed comfort. Of course, kicking down the door was always an option but Bobby didn't want to make Dean feel pressurized into talking or feel threatened. And besides, he would then have to buy or make a new door and fit it and he just didn't have the time, money or patience. It took a lot out of him to look after the two young boys, who were constantly running around playing, being boisterous, getting into trouble or arguing.

"Dean, please come out of there, I want to talk to you."

"No!"

"Please!"

"GO AWAY. I don't want to talk to you." Bobby heard Dean let out a muffled sob and his heart broke into a million little pieces. Maybe he wasn't cut out for the fathering thing, he'd have to stop giving John such a hard time for being a bad parent. It was a lot harder than it looked.

"Dean. You know I didn't mean it like that, I just meant that I love you both. I can't choose between you both. I love you more than anything. You boys are my world."

"Don't lie to me. You can choose. Everyone does. And everyone chooses Sam. Even me. It's always Sammy this, Sammy that, Sammy wants this…Dean can you just do this for Sammy? Help Sammy with his homework. I'M SICK OF IT. IT'S NOT FAIR. I don't know why I bother; no matter what I do everyone loves Sam more than me. Dad does, he always has. Sammy's always been his baby boy, the one he always hugs and plays with. He just makes me do his research or kill things for him…No matter what I do it is never good enough. He makes me train all day and shouts at me if I don't run fast enough, or miss a target in shooting practice. I can never do anything right. Just because Sammy gets better grades than me and is a geek means that Dad loves him more. I always do what I am told and help dad with the hunting and look after Sammy without complaining but he still loves Sam more. Sam never does as he's told and always argues but he never gets in trouble. I always get the blame for everything, or take the blame so he doesn't have to and It's not fair that nobody likes me." Dean seemed to come to the end of his tirade and Bobby could now clearly hear that he was sobbing, tiny hitches of breaths escaping from the child's mouth, reverberating under the door and traveling up into Bobby's ears, making the man feel like his heart was being stabbed with a thousand pins.

"Dean that's not true. You're Daddy loves you just as much as he loves Sam. You know he loves you; you are the apple of his eye. He is so proud of you and so am I. We both love you so much."

"GO AWAY. I don't want to talk to you."

"Dean!"

"Shut up! I hate you; I don't give a crap about what you say."

"Dean! Language!" Bobby knew that it was a hunter's trademark to swear like a sailor, but he still wanted to keep Dean out of the habit for as long as possible, and besides, he didn't want little Sammy to pick up on it. Bobby jumped a little when he heard Dean punch the door as hard as he could and could only listen to Dean's sobs, which had now intensified. Poor kid had probably just busted a knuckle or two judging by the force of the blow, but Bobby knew that Dean wasn't about to open the door.

"Fine, Dean I'm going downstairs. If you need anything or want me to look at your hand, just call or come down." Bobby knew damn well that the stubborn Winchester would not come downstairs but it was worth a try.

Dean sat slumped on his bed, nursing his sore hand in the other and biting his lip in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. He hated being such a wimp and vowed that he would never cry again, especially not in front of Bobby. It just wasn't fair. He was always the one that got in trouble. With a small sigh Dean shifted into a comfortable position and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come and numb the throbbing pain in his hand.

He didn't even bother to acknowledge when Bobby knocked on the door and announced that he was leaving a burger outside Dean's door for dinner. Part of Bobby had hoped that Dean's love of fast food would see to the boy leaving his room, but the other part knew that he would never be that lucky and that Dean was too stubborn to give in that easily. He had no other choice but to leave Dean to stew in his own rage a while longer.

Bobby felt like he had only been asleep for a few minutes when he heard a muffled scream of pain in the middle of the night. Blearily he stumbled out of bed and fumbled for the light switch, having already grabbed the gun from his bedside table. A quick glance at his light up alarm clock revealed that it was 4 in the morning. SHIT.

Bobby would have recognized that cry of pain anywhere, although Dean very rarely expressed his pain, the tone of the boy's voice revealed all. In a desperate attempt to locate the boy, having stumbled out of his bedroom, Bobby began to call out.

"Dean, where are you Dean?" Bobby noted that Dean's bedroom door was slightly ajar and he did a cursory sweep of the spare bedroom. Dean wasn't in there.

"Dean? Can you hear me Dean? What's wrong?" Bobby heard another shriek of pain and realized that the sound was coming from outside. What the hell?  
Bobby stumbled downstairs, stepped into his slippers and was halfway out of the door when he heard a creaking sound on the landing above him.

"Bobby!"

"Sam are you ok?"

"Bobby what's happening? Where's Dean?" Sam sounded as terrified as Bobby felt and the older hunter did everything he could to assure the boy.

"I don't know Sammy, I'm sure he's fine. Go back to bed, I will come and get you in a minute."

"No way!" Sam came running down the stairs in his blue and white stripy pyjamas and looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

"Sam, back to bed. NOW."

"NO!"

"Please stay inside. I don't know what's out there!" Sam shook his head and stood in front of Bobby, looking up at the hunter with wide, puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, I don't have time to argue."

Bobby grabbed a spare gun from a drawer and handed it to Sam, knowing the boy was more than capable of handling a firearm despite his age.

"DEAN!" Bobby was running in the general direction that he thought Dean's cries had come from, but with only one pathetic torch on his person it was almost impossible to make anything out.

"DEAN! Where are you Dean? I'm sorry I called you a jerk, where are you. Please come out!" Bobby could hear that Sam was now openly crying but there was nothing he could do about it at that point in time.

"DEAN!"

"DEAN!"

"DEAN KIDDO, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"DEAAAAAAAAAAAAN!" The sound of Sammy screaming his name seemed to elicit some sort of response from Dean, as Bobby heard a muffled call that could have been 'Sammy!'

"Dean!" Bobby pointed his torch around wildly, searching for Dean. He couldn't be far away, his voice definitely sounded louder. Weak, but louder.

"Where are you Dean?"

"I-I don't k-know. S'mmy! B'bby! HELP, IT H'RTS." Bobby realized that Dean's calls were coming from the area of land where he kept all of his trucks and cars. The ones that he convinced himself he would fix up at some point, but there always seemed to be a CIA phone call to fake or a body to dispose of, or of course, a Winchester or more to help out.

"Ok Dean, I'm coming." Bobby felt a shudder of relief flow over him when he saw the outline of Dean, but then the relief diminished faster than it had come.

Bobby felt as if he was the one who had been hit by a truck when he saw the state that the young boy was in, not Dean who was currently pinned under a white pickup.

One of Bobby's cars, which had been suspended by a miniature crane, seemed to have fallen on top of the child, pinning him to the ground. The sight of red splatters on the car's paintwork made Bobby's head spin and for a moment he was sure he was about to throw up. But he didn't. Dean needed him.

Bobby carefully kneeled down next to the boy, who was shaking violently on his side, curled up in a ball lying in a dark puddle. Bobby didn't allow himself to think about what the puddle was. He could deal with that later, right now he needed to assess Dean’s injuries. He could take in the gory details later.

It was clear that Bobby had to get the truck off of Dean's arm, which would involve trying to scoop it back up with the crane.

"Dean?" Sam, who had hung back, paralyzed with fear, seemed to come to his senses and hurried over to his brother.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm so, so sorry Dean. Please forgive me!" Dean managed to open his eyes a few millimetres and twitched his lips in Sam's direction, letting his baby brother know that he had been forgiven long ago, before his emerald green eyes rolled into the back of his head and all tension left Dean's body. He looked like a rag doll that a small child had dropped and forgotten about.

"Sam, I need you to stay with Dean, I'm gonna get this thing off him."

"Won’t you hurt him?"

"Probably, but it's my only choice." With that Bobby began to hook up the truck and climbed into the seat of the miniature crane, praying to every single god out there that this would work. He wasn't sure why the truck had dropped in the first place, and there was a chance that it would do so again, but he needed to do something. Wincing as he did so, Bobby began to manoeuvre the lever and let out a gasp of relief when the truck lifted off Dean's arm and began to move to the right, away from both of John's boys. He briefly allowed himself to consider what would have happened if Dean had been to the left a little, but banished the thought. It was too terrible to even consider. There was no way Dean would have survived if his whole body had been trapped under the truck.

Lowering the truck to the ground Bobby turned off the crane and hurried out of it, almost slipping down the two steps that led to the driver's seat.

"Sam, is he alright?" Bobby was answered by a low groan of pain, and then a muffled choking sound. Dean had woken up again, the pain from the pressure being removed so suddenly sending sparks of agony flooding through his body.

"It's ok Dean, I'm sorry but I had to do it. You're alright now. Breathe deeply for me. In, out, in and out. Good boy, you're doing great kiddo."

Bobby took a look at Dean's arm using the torch and saw that it was bent at a stomach churning angle. If Bobby didn't know the truth, he would never have realized that the twisted, malformed lump was Dean's limb.

"Ok kiddo, it's not that bad. You'll be fine." Bobby lied through his teeth. God that had to hurt.

Dean wasn't even able to give warning before he found himself being sick, he was trembling violently and the pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced in his life, even his broken ankle when he had been 4, or when he had been slashed apart by a Wendigo.

"Ok, I've got you." Bobby supported Dean as he dry heaved and Sam cuddled his brother tight, begging Dean to open his eyes again.

Sam sobbed in relief as Dean looked up at him, unable to bare how dreadful his brother looked. His brother's skin appeared gray in the torchlight and Sam hoped that it was just because it was so dark -but something told him that Dean's gray, clammy, cold skin was being caused by the severity of his injury.  
Bobby quickly checked Dean's pulse and swore when he felt how rapid it was.

"Balls. Sorry Dean." Knowing he had no other option Bobby slipped a hand under Dean's knees and another around his back, lifting the child up and hurrying him inside, ignoring Dean's muffled protests.

"S'okay Dean. Breathe, why don't you talk to Sammy." Sam looked blank and asked what to say, Bobby's reply that he could say anything was not at all helpful.

"Dean? Dean, you know that math homework you helped me with the other day, I got full marks. And I got the highest grade in class for the test; I wouldn't have done it without you. You are the best big brother ever." Nonsensical words seemed to flow out of Sam's mouth, but all Dean did was stare up at him weakly with vacant eyes.

Bobby lifted Dean's legs, elevating them on some pillows to make it easier for his heart to pump blood around his shaking body. Then he called an ambulance, it was too dangerous for him to try and move Dean any further.

When the ambulance crew finally arrived Dean was unconscious, Sam was hyperventilating and Bobby felt as if he was going to have a heart attack. He had managed to stem the bleeding but Dean had already lost far too much blood. Bobby's sofa was sporting a large red puddle now and there were smears all across the fabric from where Dean had been thrashing feebly.

"Weak pulse, his blood pressure is far too low."

"Dean? Can you hear me? Don't be afraid, my name's Harvey, I'm here to help you." Dean stared in confusion at the stranger's face above him and began twisting away from his touch, although he was too weak to pull away properly.  
"Just relax sweetie." It was a female's voice this time, but Dean did not register it. He wanted Sammy, Dad and Bobby, not some random woman.

"He's cold to touch; we need to get him to hospital, now." Harvey grabbed the stretcher that he and his assistant, Lauren, had carried in and very gently slid Dean onto it. In true Dean fashion, he put up a good struggle, kicking out with what little energy he had left. His breathing was rapid and beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead.

When Dean was in the ambulance he felt himself being wired up to a heart monitor and tried to pull away, the pain was blinding and the irregular, rapid bleeps were doing nothing to comfort him. Dean felt another rush of nausea rush over him and vomited into a kidney bowl which Lauren held under his face, supporting his forehead with a hand that felt far too hot against Dean's clammy skin. Dean finally managed to locate Sam and Bobby, who were both now by his side, Bobby rubbing his shoulder and Sam holding his hand. Before Dean could speak his vision started to swim and everything went black.

"Bobby! What's happening?"

"He's just unconscious Sammy, he's lost a lot of blood. He will be fine." Bobby was proved wrong when a long, drawn out beep pierced through his skull.

"No, do something." Bobby pulled backwards, dragging Sam with him and pressing the boy's head into his side so that Sam couldn't see what was happening. The youngest Winchester fought with all his might but Bobby did not let go.

Bobby watched in horror as some sort of pads were attached to Dean's chest, and he blanched when Dean's body jolted when his heart was shocked, again, and again, and again.

Sam was now sobbing uncontrollably, Bobby wouldn't let go of him and had pulled him into a hug so that his feet were dangling from the ground. Instinctively Sammy wrapped his legs around Bobby's waist and Bobby allowed the boy to bury his head in his neck, stroking Sam's hair as the boy shook and cried in distress.

"It's ok Sam. It's going to be ok." Bobby knew that wasn't true. He had done enough medical research to know that Dean had gone into hypovolemic shock; the boy had lost even more blood than Bobby had first expected. It wasn't just Dean's arm that was bleeding; there was also a deep gash in his abdomen and a tear that ran down his right cheek. Bobby cursed. How had he missed that? It had been so dark and he had been so worried about Dean's arm that he had failed to prevent blood loss from other areas. A fact which could lead to tiny, innocent, loving Dean to lose his life.

Tears began to flow down Bobby's cheeks and he held his breath when Harvey put down the defibrillator.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Sir, please calm down. I'm so sorry, there is nothing else we can do, he's gone."

"YOU PICK THAT FUCKING THING RIGHT BACK UP AND BRING HIM BACK." Bobby was fuming. How could they give up that easily?

"Sir…"

"IF YOU SIR ME AGAIN I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SHOOT YOUR ASS SO MANY TIMES THAT YOU BEG FOR YOUR MUMMY." The paramedic gave a slight nod and picked up the defibrillator, pressing it to the young boy's chest, trying a further two times. Nothing happened.

"It isn't going to work."

Bobby snarled, placed Sam on the floor and grabbed the machine from Harvey, pressing it to Dean's chest and shocking the boy again and again, crying out every time Dean's body jerked.

When Bobby was finally about to give up he heard a strange gurgling sound and saw that Dean had moved his head marginally. There was blood oozing out of his mouth, but the machine had started to beep regularly again.

"Oh my God! It's … it's a miracle!" Bobby let out a sob of relief and collapsed onto the side of Dean's bed, his legs no longer strong enough to keep him up.  
Harvey and Lauren looked more shocked than Dean, but they immediately set about fiddling with IV drips and inserting a tube down Dean's throat to help him breathe through the blood. Dean gargled a little more but his eyes remained closed. Sam, who had curled up against the wall when Bobby let go of him, tentatively sat on the edge of Dean's bed and hugged his brother, crying openly and refusing to let go until they were in the hospital and Dean was being wheeled into surgery.

It was four, long, tense hours later that Bobby and Sam finally received some news.

"Mr Sheridan, you'll be pleased to know that your nephew is out of surgery. He has been given a blood transfusion, his arm has been fitted with screws and plates and his chest has been treated for severe burns from the defibrillator, but the doctors think he has a good chance of making it through without any lasting damage. The cuts to his abdomen and cheek have both been stitched up and will probably scar and he will always have to be careful of his arm, but he is one little tough cookie."

"Thank God! You hear that Sammy, your brother's going to be fine." Sam looked up at Bobby, his puppy dog eyes red, puffy and swollen with a million different emotions swimming in them. Fear, terror, pain, hope… He couldn't make sense of how he was feeling. All he knew was that he needed to be by Dean's side, right that instant.

"Can we see him?"

"Yes, of course. This way." The red headed nurse showed Bobby and Sam over to the paediatrics unit, where they found Dean in a single bedded-room, fast asleep. He would have looked peaceful if the deep gash in his cheek hadn't been present. His arm and body had been covered in a light blanket and Bobby was thankful that he couldn't see the extent of the damage that his truck had caused. It was all his fault.

"I'm so sorry Dean." Bobby gently rubbed soothing circles on Dean's shoulder and watched the heart-breaking sight of Sam trying to speak to his brother and wake him up.

"Sam, try and get some rest, I will wake you up if Dean wakes, ok?" Sam shook his head miserably but exhaustion soon won out and he found himself drifting off, resting his head on the good side of Dean's abdomen.

…

"Sam, Sammy wake up man." Sam peeled open his eyes and saw that Dean was sitting up and that he himself had been shifted onto another hospital bed to get some sleep.

"Dean!" Sam stumbled out of bed and hurried over to his older brother, who looked pale and tired, but alive.

"Hey Sammy. You ok?" Trust Dean to think of Sam first when he was the one who just underwent surgery and a blood transfusion!

"I'm fine Dean. I'm sorry I was mean to you. You were right, you are always right."

"I know I am Sammy, I'm awesome, but it's ok. It was just a dumb argument."

Dean lifted his good arm up enough to stroke his brother's hair and then he shuffled over so that Sam could slide into bed next to him. With a grunt of effort Dean wrapped his arm around his younger brother, pulling him into a gentle hug before falling back asleep again.

The next time Dean woke Bobby decided that he would have a talk with Dean.

"Dean? You with me?"

"Yeah." Dean kept his voice as a whisper so that he wouldn't wake his little brother up.

"Why were you out there Dean? What on earth were you doing? It was 4 in the morning!"

"I-I didn't want to be a burden any more so I thought I would just…leave for a bit."

"Oh Dean, you little idjit. I love you so much, you aren't a burden. Hasn't your Daddy told you how dangerous it is to go outside in the dark?!"

"I know." Dean turned away ashamed and closed his eyes, hoping that Bobby would leave him be. However, he was glad that Bobby didn't when Bobby pulled him up into a gentle hug, being careful of his injuries.

"I love you Dean."

"Love you too Bobby." Dean closed his eyes and drifted off, breathing in the familiar, musky scent of Bobby's shirt.

When he next awoke Dean saw his father's concerned eyes peering down at him.

"Daddy?"

"Hey there champ, I came as soon as I heard what had happened. How are you feeling kiddo?"

"I'm fine Dad. Can we go home now?"

"How are you really feeling Dean?"

"…a little sick."

"That's the meds son, are you in any pain at all?"

"My cheek and tummy sting and my arm kind of aches but it isn't too bad."

"Ok son." John called for the nurse, knowing that Dean was in more pain than he was letting on. Soon Dean was fast asleep again and it was Sam who he turned his attention to.

"Sammy, how ya holding up?"

"I was so scared Daddy. I thought…I thought. He…he…died. It was my fault, I was…I was mean to him."

"It wasn't your fault Sam, Dean shouldn't have gone out. But you should be less hard on him, he loves you more than anything in the world. Besides, this is mainly my fault. It’s me who should be saying sorry. How about we take a little holiday when Dean is better…how does Disney World sound?"

Sam's eyes lit up and grew comically wide and John knew he had made the right decision in booking flights to Florida for the next month.

"Good. How about you go down to the canteen with Bobby?"

"Ok." Sam slid out of Dean's bed and headed off to the canteen, accompanied by one of the nurses who had a soft spot for both of the Winchester boys. They were so dependent on each other and it was far too cute to see them both looking after each other.

John stroked some hair out of Dean's face and kissed his son on the forehead, it may have been chick-flick but he didn't care. After all, he was going to start doing whatever he could to become a better father to both of his sons, one step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought :D I'd love to hear from you <3


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